Break Free
by AdieBishop
Summary: Michael Scofield is alive, spending time in maximum security at Heathesville Penitentiary. A woman befriends him, the two becoming pen pals, and Michael, once again, wants to break free. Is this the final break, or is Michael in prison for good?
1. Solitary

Michael Scofield picked the last letter from the bag; he was always last. It was some sort of card, from a woman, his senses could tell. Housewives, retirees, single, lonely women desperately looking for someone to talk to. Hell, he didn't have anything else to do with the other 23 hours a day in his miniscule cell, so he opened the card, and began to read.

 _To Whom It May Concern:_

 _I'm not sure of how to go about writing a letter such as this, but here goes._

 _My name is Bella Jackson. I am 34 and I live in a condo by the bluest water one could ever hope to see. I am a freelance writer; a teacher by profession, and sometimes it gets lonely, especially in the months that I don't have any students._

 _I'm looking for someone to talk to, and maybe you are, too._

 _Please feel free to write back._

 _B._

 _P.S. I was going to put stamps in an envelope for you, but they said that they would be confiscated._

Michael grimaced: the guards always kept unnecessary things just to make life behind bars suck a little more. He rose up out of bed, took some paper and a pencil from beneath his pillow, sat in the corner, and began to write.

 _Dear Bella,_

 _Thank you for your much-welcomed letter. I, too, am not quite sure on the etiquette used, etc., of the art of pen-palling, although I do know that mail coming to and going from this prison is read and thoroughly inspected._

 _I'm surprised you didn't ask about what I was "in for," as most people do right off the bat. It's a long story. Maybe if we stay in touch, I'll tell it to you._

 _Thank you_

 _Inmate #80379_

 _Dear Inmate #80379 (Are you allowed to use your own name?)_

 _Thank you for your letter. It arrived much sooner than I had expected._

 _My day has been long. Two of my students got into a fight, but couldn't get in the bathroom to clean up because another student has the flu. Here I go, rambling on, and I'm sure you've no interest in hearing about the battles of children._

 _How is the food there? I hear most of it is junk and unhealthy. Do you get to go outside much? Fresh air does wonders._

 _I will close for now, but look forward to your response._

 _P.S. What are you in for? I have plenty of time._

 _Take care._

Michael smiled as he sat down to pen another letter. It gave him something to do, at least. Would she believe his outlandish (but true) story? He decided what the hell, and began. He told her about his brother, about Fox River, about escaping, about being exonerated, about getting his pregnant wife out of prison; about her dying, about giving up hope and sitting to rot in a small cell, counting the days, one by one by one. Her letters would give him something to look forward to, finally, and he thanked her. If she didn't want to continue correspondence, that was fine, too, although he would miss it. He closed the letter asking about the children: who won the fight and who else got sick. He put the letter in an envelope and sealed it, waited for mail call to come round.

Eight years. _Eight long years_. A person can go crazy with that amount of time. His brother and friends though him dead, and he wanted to keep it that way. They were free, and to him, that was all that mattered. He absent-mindedly touched his ring finger…he longed for his life, their life together. It had been cut so short.

He would exercise before showering: jumping jacks, running in place, pushups, you name it. At first, everyone stared at him in awe, as his entire upper body was one huge tattoo, the Fox River blue prints, carefully etched into his skin. They thought him crazy, which he liked: you don't mess with crazy. So, he stayed to himself most of the time. He knew the faces and the reputations, but no more. Knowing more was dangerous.

He got her third letter at chow time, so he skipped eating. The food was shit, anyway. He hopped up into his top bunk and opened the letter. It smelled like flowers that he couldn't quite place; it was the most wonderful scent.

 _Dear Inmate #80379,_

 _I wish you would tell me your name. Inmate followed by numbers feels so cold and distant, like you aren't a person. You are a person, and you do matter, even if you don't realize it._

 _The children got sent home for fighting and the other went home sick. They'll be out of school for a few days, at least._

 _What do you enjoy doing? I'm not familiar with prisons, but I'm sure you must have hobbies. Do you like reading? I have loads of books I could send you, if you'd like. Let me know._

 _Take care._

 _B._

 _Dear Bella,_

 _I love to read. There is a prison library here. I've read most of the books. I guess when you've got nothing but time and trying to survive it's good to delve into another world other than your own. I would be pleased if you would send me a few books from time to time; I'll return them._

 _P.S. My name is Michael Scofield_


	2. Freedom

_Dear Michael (that sounds much better),_

 _I've enclosed a few books for you, hopefully you will enjoy them, and let me know what you think of them._

 _B._

 _Dear Bella,_

 _Thank you for the books. I especially like the poetry of D. H. Lawrence; thank you. At the risk of being too forward, could you send me a photo of you? I can send one of myself, although I don't think I take good photographs. I have pictures hung all around me in my cell…it gives me a glimpse into the outside world. Funny, what a picture can do._

 _With regards,_

 _Michael_

He couldn't sleep. He was restless, tossing and turning, worried about the next day, the hour when everyone could go outside. He nearly got jumped by a gang; he could handle his own one on one, even two on one, but four, no way. He kept Bella's letters safely beneath his mattress; for the first time in years, he looked forward to something: he felt alive. He felt free, and nothing would stop him from planning his way out, never to return.

 _Dear Michael,_

 _I've enclosed a photo as you requested, although I am camera shy. I would like on of you, if possible, to put a face to a name._

 _Tell me more about yourself, where you grew up, what you did for fun, how did you do in school? What kind of music do you like?_

 _Curious,_

 _B._

 _Dearest Bella,_

 _You never mentioned that you are beautiful. I keep your picture inside my pillowcase, so no one will take it._

 _There's really not much to tell about myself. I did well in school, although I was shy. For fun I'd go swimming in a nearby lake. My brother and I tied a rope to a tree branch and would swing from it and fall into the lake. As far as I know, the rope is still there. When I was little I used to climb trees. All the way to the top, just to see the view. As far as music goes, I like just about anything. I keep remembering my brother's sixteenth birthday, when we all sang to him. Funny, the simple things I miss._

 _I'm sending you a photo of me-it's not my mug shot, thankfully, but it will have to do._

 _Michael_

He noticed everything. The gangs, the groups, the loners, the young, the old, the mean; the shifting of the guards, even the ticking clock in the Warden's office as he built yet another wooden masterpiece. He made quick friends with the librarian, who would save the best books for him. He was on the good side of a few…he only hoped it would be enough.

 _Dear Michael,_

 _Thank you for sending me your photo. You look very handsome. I can see your tattoos at your shirt collar-you are a walking piece of art. I have to admit that I did some research on your escape from Fox River. How horrible that must have been. Now you are incarcerated for doing the right thing…it doesn't seem fair at all._

 _Are you eligible for parole? I don't mean to sound forward, but I would really like to meet you face to face. Do they allow visitors?_

B.

 _Dearest Bella,_

 _The tattooing and planning took a long time. It was a miracle that we made it out. Everyone is free now, sans myself. I didn't have anything to look forward to until you started writing to me. Now I'm first in line at mail call._

 _I'm not eligible for parole._

 _Do you like origami?_

 _Yes, they allow visitors. Only one at a time, and for fifteen minutes, behind glass. No touching whatsoever, which is the hardest part for me. Hell, I can't even remember the last time I had a hug from anyone…that didn't try to stab me, anyway._

 _Let me know if you want to visit…I'll put on my best prison garb._

 _Michael_

He rubbed her face in the picture. She was truly beautiful, with a smile that made him happy. It was the first time in years that he felt truly happy, and he was grateful that he got the last letter that day. He put the photo away and got back to business, loosening the pipes behind the sink; if his plan worked he'd be free again, and this time, he would disappear for good.

He thought of Bella, and wondered if she would go with him. Would she give up everything for a convict?

He was nervous. His palms were sweating and he couldn't sit still. Luckily, it gave him enough energy to finish loosening the sink pipes and measuring where the hole would be dug. A guard opened his cell door just as he washed his hands.

"Scofield, visitor."

This was it. This was the moment that he'd see her for real, in person. Not words on paper, but _real_. He was nauseous and terrified, excited all at the same time. What would she think of him?

He took a deep breath and sat down, stared at her through the glass.

She picked up the phone, as did he, but he was at a loss for words.

"Hello," she said, her voice melodic, soothing.

Michael swallowed the knot in his throat.

"Hello," he replied, clearing his throat.

"I can't believe you're here," he said finally, and she smiled.

"Neither can I, but here I am."

Michael smiled and stared at her, his emotions boiling over. He put his hand against the glass, as did she. Never in his life did he want to break through and run away.

"You've lost weight."

"Prison food is shit."

"They won't let me bring anything in for you. No snacks, no cards, nothing."

"It's okay. It's just the way it works here." He paused. His voice lowered, "I wish I could break through this goddamn glass, right now."

Bella put her head down and smiled. "Me, too," she whispered.

"Five minutes," a guard called, and Bella checked her watch. She looked at Michael in desperation.

"I will find a way to get to you."

Tears stung Bella's eyes as she looked him. She put her hand on the glass once more as guards came to cuff Michael, and he did the same.

"Soon it will be for real."

Bella nodded, turned and left as Michael was led back to his cell.

He worked every night behind the sink, slowly chipping away at the concrete. Hell, if Tim Robbins could crawl a mile through raw sewage, Michael could find a way to get out.

He and Bella continued to write one another, and she continued sending him books to read. She'd sent him photos of her that he pinned on his wall by his bunk bed; her face was the first thing he saw in the morning, and the last thing he saw at night. Somehow, he felt safe, and he was more determined than ever to break out.

It was storming outside. Michael could hear the thunder through the prison walls; angry, yet comforting.

A guard called "Lights out!" and Michael quickly got to work, moving the sink and continuing to chisel through the wall. A few more days, he figured, and it would be loose enough to break through. When the guards walked around checking cells, he quickly moved the sink back into place. Just a few more days.

He smelled him before he spoke.

"Scofield. Like the pictures of your lady friend. Why don't you share?"

"I'm not into sharing."

"I think you are. I want a picture."

"Sorry, can't help you."

He swung, but Michael dodged him, gave him an uppercut to his chin, bloodying his nose and lips.

The man lunged for him, but Michael was faster, more agile, than his opponent.

A guard broke up the fight, and laughter could be heard throughout the prison cells.

Michael returned to his cell and removed the pictures of Bella from his wall; from now on, he'd keep them under his pillow.

 _Dear Michael,_

 _How are you? I haven't heard from you in a while. I hope everything is okay._

 _I really enjoyed visiting you. I wish there was something I could do to help you._

 _B._

 _Dear Bella,_

 _I'm sorry I haven't written. I've been on work detail for a week now. Before that I got put in solitary for getting into a fight (don't worry, I'm fine)._

 _I can't stop thinking about you._

 _Michael_

 _Dear Michael,_

 _I'm sorry to hear that you were in confinement. How is work detail? What do you do?_

 _I keep thinking of you, as well. My students had to force me out of daydreaming today._

 _B._

One more day and he'd have it done. One more day and he would crawl through the hole and climb pipes to get out. There was a river about a mile away from the prison; there he could strip off his clothes and wash…give the dogs nothing to sniff after the river.

"Got a special book for you today, Scofield," the librarian said. "Page 54 is the best part."

Michael thanked him and opened the book to page 54, finding a key card inside. He knew there would be a few doors he'd have to get through. This was just the thing he needed.

 _Dear Bella,_

 _I am enclosing an origami dove for you. The wings are magical-I think you'll like it._

 _Michael_

Bella looked at the dove carefully, paying special attention to the wings. Inside was a note that said, "I can't wait for our next visit. I wish we could go to the river here."

The guards called light out, and Michael put pillows on his bed and covered them, to make it look like he was sleeping. He quietly moved the sink and shimmied into the hole; this was it. This was his way out.


	3. The Break

p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;"It took some maneuvering, but he got through. Now there was nothing but rusty, wet pipes. To get out, he'd have to carefully climb down each one until he reached the bottom. He checked his watch: thirty minutes until bed checks, so he had to hurry. Walking carefully along a large pipe, he grabbed hold of a smaller one and began his descent./p  
p class="MsoNormal" /p  
p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;" align="center"***/p  
p class="MsoNormal" /p  
p class="MsoNormal"span style="mso-tab-count: 1;" /spanBella packed a sweat suit she'd bought for Michael, some shoes and toiletries. She was nervous and in a hurry. She knew where the river was, but didn't know where exactly Michael would be. She zipped the duffle bag, grabbed her car keys, and got in her car. Before starting the engine, she thought momentarily about them getting caught. She pushed those thoughts out of her mind and started the car./p  
p class="MsoNormal" /p  
p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;" align="center"***/p  
p class="MsoNormal" /p  
p class="MsoNormal"span style="mso-tab-count: 1;" /spanMichael was now in the air duct. He had to get through two doors to be free. Thankfully he had a key card. He prayed that it would work, and luckily, it did. He swiped the key at the second door and ran as fast as he could. He made it to the fence, pulled out wire cutters from his bag, and cut a small hole, just large enough to squeeze through. Once he was out, he ran as fast as his feet would let him. He ran like the wind until he made it to the river. There he stopped running and walked along the riverbank to rest. He stripped off his clothes and washed in the river, put his boxers back on, and kept running./p  
p class="MsoNormal" /p  
p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;" align="center"***/p  
p class="MsoNormal" /p  
p class="MsoNormal"span style="mso-tab-count: 1;" /spanShe exhaled quickly when she saw him, real flesh and blood, now running towards her. She held her arms out and he slammed into her, holding her close. "Oh thank God," Bella said. Michael looked around. "We have to get out of here em style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"now/em."/p  
p class="MsoNormal"span style="mso-tab-count: 1;" /spanBella nodded, and they both got in the car. Figuring there was no way anyone would find him at her house, that's where they headed. Freezing, Michael put onspan style="mso-spacerun: yes;" /spanthe sweat suit Bella had gotten for him. He let out a huge breath of air: he was physically worn out. It didn't take long for him to fall asleep as Bella drove home./p  
p class="MsoNormal" /p  
p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;" align="center"***/p  
p class="MsoNormal" /p  
p class="MsoNormal"span style="mso-tab-count: 1;" /spanHe showered and came out of the bathroom in a towel. Bella stared at him. His entire upper body and arms were covered in tattoos./p  
p class="MsoNormal"span style="mso-tab-count: 1;" /spanI'll take the sofa," he said, but Bella said no. She stood up and walked to him, touched his chest. Her breathing became ragged, as did his./p  
p class="MsoNormal"span style="mso-tab-count: 1;" /spanShe looked up at him, and then he kissed her, hard. He hadn't been intimate with anyone since his wife Sara died nine years ago./p  
p class="MsoNormal"span style="mso-tab-count: 1;" /span"I almost forgot how to do this," he said with a laugh, but Bella reassured him. "It's okay. I'll show you how."/p  
p class="MsoNormal"span style="mso-tab-count: 1;" /spanShe kissed him and he put his arms around her, silently thanking God that he made it out and was safe, and free. Soon, though, there would be TV reports, magazine headlines, newspaper articles, all about Michael Scofield, the tyrant who escaped two prisons. He put those thoughts out of his mind and let his towel drop to the floor. He began taking Bella's shirt off, and she stared at him. He was beautiful./p  
p class="MsoNormal"span style="mso-tab-count: 1;" /spanHe rubbed her bare chest, ran his fingers along her lace bra, and instinctively unhooked it. He kissed her there, and she exhaled: this was heaven./p  
p class="MsoNormal"span style="mso-tab-count: 1;" /spanHe laid her on the bed and unbuttoned her jeans, pulled them free. Next, her underwear and bra, and there they were, both naked, both nervous, and anxious./p  
p class="MsoNormal"span style="mso-tab-count: 1;" /spanHe entered her quickly and she let out a sigh; it felt like he was made for her./p  
p class="MsoNormal"span style="mso-tab-count: 1;" /spanHe moved slowly, and then began to move faster, and Bella came quickly. Michael came a few minutes later, and he kissed her, gently this time. He moved to her side and they lay bare and free. She traced her fingers along his tattoos. He told her when he got each one, what they stood for. What they still stood for./p  
p class="MsoNormal"span style="mso-tab-count: 1;" /span"I have to tell you something," he said finally./p  
p class="MsoNormal"span style="mso-tab-count: 1;" /span"What?" Bella asked, her voice calm, soothing./p  
p class="MsoNormal"span style="mso-tab-count: 1;" /spanMichael paused: he needed to tell her, but he was afraid of her reaction./p  
p class="MsoNormal"span style="mso-tab-count: 1;" /span"I have to leave the country. It's the only way I can be free."/p  
p class="MsoNormal"span style="mso-tab-count: 1;" /spanBella looked at him and was quiet for a while./p  
p class="MsoNormal"span style="mso-tab-count: 1;" /spanMichael began to internally panic./p  
p class="MsoNormal"span style="mso-tab-count: 1;" /span"Okay."/p  
p class="MsoNormal"span style="mso-tab-count: 1;" /span"Okay?" Michael sighed and smiled, kissing her./p  
p class="MsoNormal"span style="mso-tab-count: 1;" /spanShe laid her head on his chest, listened to his heartbeat./p  
p class="MsoNormal"span style="mso-tab-count: 1;" /spanHe ran his fingers through her soft hair, placing light kisses on her forehead./p  
p class="MsoNormal"span style="mso-tab-count: 1;" /span"I think I'm in love with you," he whispered, and Bella looked at him, tried to hold back her tears./p  
p class="MsoNormal"span style="mso-tab-count: 1;" /span"I love you, too."/p  
p class="MsoNormal" /p  
p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;" align="center"***/p  
p class="MsoNormal" /p  
p class="MsoNormal"span style="mso-tab-count: 1;" /spanLincoln Burrows couldn't believe what he was seeing. All the news channels were saying that Michael Scofield had escaped from prison for the second time./p  
p class="MsoNormal"span style="mso-tab-count: 1;" /spanTears welled in his eyes; tears of joy./p  
p class="MsoNormal"span style="mso-tab-count: 1;" /spanHis brother was free, and he had to find him./p  
p class="MsoNormal" /p 


	4. Free

It cost him a lot, but Michael Scofield had a new identity, a new name, a new passport, a new ID; everything he'd need to leave the country.

He got into the car and smiled, as did Bella.

"Alright," he said, "Let's get packing."

Bella smiled and started the car.

They packed quickly, only taking what would fit into three duffle bags, a suit case, and one carry-on. Bella packed a few personal items; she and Michael would worry about the rest later.

Michael put on a hat and sunglasses as they went into the airport. He scoffed at the long lines and checked his watch. He prayed that no one would recognize him, and if so, that his ID and passport would work to throw them off.

They boarded the plane and took their seats. Michael took Bella's hand and kissed it. They were almost home free.

"We'll lie on the beach, walk in the sand, and make love every chance we get," he said after they took off, and Bella smiled and kissed him.

Michael didn't think she'd give up her life there for him, and a pang of guilt hit him, hard.

Bella pulled out a complimentary travel pillow and laid her head against the window to sleep, leaving Michael alone with his thoughts.

He missed his brother, Lincoln. Eventually, he would let him know where he was, but for now, he had to remain quiet.

Michael used Bella's iPod, closed his eyes and listened to the group Halsey.

Michael woke Bella went the plane touched down. They shuffled down the small isle and exited the plane, went straight to baggage claim, which took forever. They exited the airport and went to the car Bella had rented. They went straight to a real estate agency to find a place to live.

"This is it, Michael. You're finally free."

Michael put his sunglasses on and smiled. He wanted to yell from a rooftop (maybe he would, when they found a place to live), he wanted to run on the beach until his legs burned and his body ached. He wanted to make love to Bella, softly and slowly; his dream was becoming a reality.

They rented a small loft on the beach. They would have to busy themselves with shopping, but they'd deal with that later.

Bella smiled, looking out onto the water, and Michael took her hand. They walked out onto the beach and walked. Sometimes they were quiet, sometimes they would talk; by the time they got back, it was nearly dark.

They had had dinner at a cozy restaurant off the nearby boardwalk, and after a hot shower, Bella made the bed. The loft was partially furnished, which was good, on such short notice.

Michael had gone out for a run and returned just as Bella was getting dressed. He stood in the doorway and watched her. She jumped when she turned and saw him.

"Stop."

"Stop what?"

"Stop getting dressed."

Bella smiled, moved toward him. He was covered in sweat.

"Why?"

"Because this," he said, bending to kiss her. Michael undressed her and then himself, and the two made their way to the bed, kissing and touching; it was slow and intense: Michael was a talented lover.

When their lovemaking was over, they fell asleep in each other's arms. Michael was safe and free. He lived in a paradise and he had a woman who'd given up everything for him. At this moment, he was in Heaven.

Lincoln Burrows walked out of the building, information in hand. (They had used the same guy to make passports and IDs when they'd broken out of Fox River.)

He booked a flight for Maldives and packed. He wouldn't stop until he found his brother.

They were walking through a local market, buying fruits and vegetables. When someone called out "Michael!," Michael turned around, was stunned to see his brother. He hurried towards him. "Brother!" he said loudly, hugging Lincoln.

"Jesus Christ! _Eight fucking years_! Why didn't you let us know?"

Michael sighed. "I wanted to keep you safe."

"Oh man, c'mere!" Lincoln said, embracing his brother once more.

Bella looked on and smiled, and Michael motioned for her to join them.

"Lincoln, this is Bella."

"Beautiful! Hello!"

"Hello," Bella said, smiling.

Lincoln clasped his hands together and shook his head. "I still can't believe it!"

"Believe it," Michael said. "Let's get out of here. I wanna show you where we live."

Michael ran the grill while Bella kept the glasses full while Lincoln was busy telling her childhood stories of Michael, and she was loving every second of it. They were very close, and the feeling around them was good: they were free, and Michael was home.

"And don't even get me started on girls!"

"Alright, I think that's enough talking. Let's eat," Michael said, placing a tray of grilled food in the center of the table.

Lincoln laughed.

"I never thought I'd see this day." He swallowed the knot in his throat as Michael raised his glass. "A salute. To freedom."

"To freedom!"

"I'm sorry we can't do better," Bella said, handing Lincoln a set of sheets and a pillow for the sofa."

"Nah, this is fine, just fine." He stretched and kissed Bella on the cheek.

"I wanna thank you for taking care of Michael. He loves you, and that's a hard thing to say after Sara passed."

"You don't have to thank me," she said with a smile. "Goodnight."

Bella got under the covers in their large bed and picked up the book that she had been reading. Michael came out of the bathroom in his pjs and climbed into bed. He sat upright and stared at Bella.

"I love you," he said finally, and Bella closed her book. "I love you."

They kissed and Bella laid her head on Michael's chest.

He ran his fingers through her hair until she fell asleep, and then he turned the lights off and did the same.

For the first time in a long, long time, Michael Scofield was truly free.


End file.
